


Little Surprises

by Celyan



Series: Mesmerise My Heart [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond brings Q a souvenir, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-SPECTRE, Q has a double-oh friend, Slow Burn, or a few, who likes to help him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: “Oh my god, it’s you. You’re back.Whyare you back?! I’vejustgot used to agents actually returning what we give them, and now you’re hereagain??”It’s been a year, and suddenly Bond is back again at Six and in Q’s life. Q’s suspicious for a reason, but luckily he has a friend, a double-oh agent who’s more than happy to help—and to meddle.
Relationships: James Bond/Q, Q (James Bond) & Original Character(s)
Series: Mesmerise My Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820845
Comments: 23
Kudos: 232





	1. Why are you here?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the MI6 Cafe’s Finish It February challenge. It was supposed to be just a short oneshot, written in time for if not February then at least for March, but then it became... this. 👀
> 
> Tristan Shaw, agent 005, is an OC from my still unfinished Nano, another Spectre fix-it fic. I love him and I hope that I won’t be the only one. 
> 
> All the thanks go to Castillon02 for being a wonderful beta. 💚

He knew immediately---something had changed. 

Or that is, at least, what Q would say _now_ , after it all has been said and done. 

It began like this.

*

No one had ever told him that James Bond was on a secret mission to destroy Spectre once and for all, and for that Q is eternally bitter. 

Well, Moneypenny might have tried once or five times, but every time she’d started with, “You do know that Bond is…” or something along that vein, he’d never let her finish her sentence, preferring to distract her with something shiny or deadly, or a combination thereof. Eventually, she’d muttered a “suit yourself, you silly boy,” (to which Q had almost taken offence, because he wasn't silly and he _certainly_ wasn’t a boy) and had ceased to talk about Bond completely. 

At the time, Q had taken it as a win. 

He’d gone on distracting himself with work, and when 005 had required personal assistance from Q Branch in the field soon after, he’d volunteered. Tristan Shaw had been the perfect gentleman and had become a good friend during the two and a half months they’d spent together in Croatia. 

Taller than Q and muscular in the way most double-ohs were, Shaw had thick black hair down to his shoulders and blue eyes several shades darker than Bond’s. He’d been playful yet courteous and attentive, and most importantly, had never forgotten to share his plans with Q when Q was out there in the field with him. 

He’d also been a perfectly adequate kisser, and Q had been more than comfortable pretending to be his boyfriend for the duration of the mission. (He’d also resolutely ignored how he’d once imagined that 007 would remain the only agent he’d ever do that with.) 

The mission had been simple, although on the lengthier side: infiltrate the relevant social scene, befriend the villain, and gather as much data of her organisation as possible. No killing was required, and no explosions or thrilling car chases were expected — or authorised. 

Bond would have found it dreadfully boring and monotonous, but Shaw had been in his element. He’d escorted Q from one party or get-together to another, from the beach to elegant restaurants and quaint little boutiques, and had charmed their target and Q alike. 

Shaw had played his part as the devoted and thoroughly infatuated boyfriend flawlessly, up until the very moment they had finally apprehended the target. The look on her face when she’d realised who they really were would stay in Q’s mind for years to come. 

”Well, crumpet, it seems like my time as your boyfriend has come to an end. But don’t for one second believe that you’re getting rid of me that easily,” Shaw’d said afterwards, and Q had realised that he’d have a friend for years to come, as well. 

When they’d returned to Six, R had been in the middle of something confidential as per her role as the acting leader of Q Branch during Q’s absence, and Q had gone back to work as usual. She’d continued to work on this confidential project from time to time throughout the year Bond had been gone, but aside from checking in with Moneypenny to make sure that it was legitimate and that R could handle it without any input from him, Q had paid no mind to it. 

He now knows that he perhaps should have. 

If he had, there might have been something he could have done to mask his reaction from his awfully nosy minions and even nosier friends when one day, there is a rumour that Bond is in the building. 

Q stops in his tracks, mid-explanation of a new gadget — a laser pointer keychain with an actual laser hidden within — he’d developed especially for Shaw in mind and had been in the process of demonstrating to the agent. He’s also sure that there must be something in his expression that is entirely too telling, as Shaw smiles at him knowingly and tells him that if he needed someone to help make Bond jealous, he’d be available. 

Make Bond jealous?! Q lets out a fully involuntary squawking sort of noise. “Why on earth would you say something like _that_?”

Shaw simply chuckles at him, and even has the audacity to ruffle his hair as a way of an answer. Q is left with an uncomfortable feeling of Shaw being aware of something that he really shouldn’t be aware of—namely, those feelings for Bond that Q thought he had successfully kept hidden from everyone else. 

Q isn’t able to get anything more out of Shaw, much as he tries, and is eventually forced to let it go. He may or may not grumble a little, but his staff quite sensibly pretends that they aren’t hearing anything of the sort.

He retires to the firing range to take out his frustrations on the new weapon that is in the need of testing. When he returns to the branch proper after close to two hours, he finds Bond just _there_ , in the middle of his space as if he has any right to be there again and look the same as he did a year ago, if perhaps a little happier now (which Q’s mind immediately equates with a satisfying relationship with one Dr Madeleine Swann, and which consequently makes his own mood plummet). He almost stops where he is and turns back around because _surely_ no one expects him to not react to something like _that_? 

“Hello Q, I’ve missed you,” Bond says, smiling, and this time Q does stop, if only for a few seconds. So Bond would be like _that_ , then? 

“Oh my god, it’s you. You’re back. _Why_ are you back?! I’ve _just_ got used to agents actually returning what we give them, and now you’re here _again_??”

 _There,_ Q thinks scathingly as he makes his way further into the room and vaguely towards where Bond is standing. That ought to put him in his place, and it’s not like it isn’t all true, either; no other agent has ever had quite as abysmal equipment lost-to-return ratio as the infamous 007, and no matter what anyone says, if the other agents can be better about it then so can bloody Bond if he so wishes. Apparently, he simply never has. 

Bond looks at him as if, for once in his life, such a reaction from his Quartermaster has been the opposite of what he’d expected. And why should he have? Hasn’t Q always been way too accommodating to the bloody menace of a double-oh? But no more! If Bond really is back for good, then he‘d best adapt and accept the fact that a year is a long time and that things have inevitably changed during his absence. 

“Yes, I am back,” Bond says, more careful this time, and looks at him with a pensive expression on his face. 

Q frowns and makes a deliberate decision to not even go there. “For how long?” he asks instead, then turns to glance at some blueprints that a rather shocked-looking minion near him is holding ready for his perusal. She can be as shocked as she likes about his attitude towards Bond; frankly, Q doesn’t much care at the moment, not when more than half of his attention has been taken by the mere presence of Bond in the same room as him. 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Bond replies easily, and _why_ must he look at Q like that with those beautiful blue eyes of his while saying something like _that_? 

“I imagine M isn’t ready to let you go quite yet, seeing as you’re still here,” Q says, gesturing vaguely around himself.

Bond tilts his head slightly, and something in his expression clears. “Q. You have no idea where I’ve been for the past year, have you?” 

“Of course I don’t,” Q replies, a little miffed despite himself. 

“I see,” Bond says, and he sounds like it explains everything. Well, perhaps it does to him, but it certainly doesn’t for Q, and Bond hardly deigns to explain. Q’s long since stopped expecting him to, anyway, and so he can put it in the back of his mind to puzzle out later. 

“I’m unsure why you’re here right now, however,” he says steadily. “Seeing as there are no new missions for you or anything that would require your presence down here.” 

“I am here to invite you to dinner,” Bond replies, sounding amused. “Eve and Tanner and a few others will be there also. M said that he regretfully cannot make it tonight, but that we should have a drink for him. I left the details on your desk, so be a dear and don’t be late.” 

Q blinks. A dinner invitation he had not expected. So Bond thinks that they can simply continue like old times, just like that? “I make no promises,” is what he says out loud, though. 

“Naturally.” Bond grins. “However, I’ve been authorised to come and collect you myself, should you choose to be tardy. So consider this your one and only warning.” 

Having said all that, Bond simply turns and leaves Q Branch with his customary double-oh grace, leaving Q staring after him. The cheek of the man, he marvels quietly as he watches Bond disappear. Then he turns his attention back to the room at large and is met with many a wide-eyed stare from his minions. 

“Well,” he says with a weary sigh, “now that _that_ has been dealt with, we can finally move on with our day,” and looks at his minions expectantly. 

Later, when he goes to his office to check the details for the quickly approaching dinner, Q does find the note sitting atop his desk as promised. What he finds in addition he definitely did not expect, but there it still is, all of its blue-wrapped — blue like Bond’s eyes, his mind is more than eager to point out — glory: a big package bearing his name in Bond’s all too recognisable handwriting. 

Q stares at the package for an entirely too long time before his brain finally catches on. 

Bond has brought him a souvenir from his mission. 

Just like he used to do. 

Q keeps looking at the package and admits to himself that he has absolutely no clue about what he should think about _that_.

*

Q does not exactly want to see what Bond coming to collect him would look like, so he makes sure to be ready by the appointed time. He makes his way to the agreed upon meeting place and sees Bond, Tanner, Moneypenny, and two other double-oh agents already there. Q greets them all and wonders if anyone else is still coming to join them. After all, he’s even a minute or two early, himself. 

His unasked question is answered not half a minute after, when Shaw suddenly appears next to him and cheerfully inquires whether he’s late. 

“No, you’re perfectly on time,” Moneypenny replies and then starts ushering them all outside and towards the cosy little pub they like to frequent when they’re going out together as a group. 

Q follows the others with Shaw next to him, chatting about the gadget Q’d been demonstrating to him earlier that day. He tries his best to not glance at Bond — who’s walking next to Moneypenny and lightly flirting with her — too often, but he has a sinking suspicion that Shaw notices it each and every time. Bloody spies, he thinks longsufferingly, and resolutely does not wonder whether Bond’s arm around his shoulders would feel even better than Shaw’s. 

(Shaw is a tactile man, and ever since their shared mission he’s been showing that side of himself quite freely with Q. Q has never had any complaints about it, either.) 

At the pub Q finds himself sandwiched between Shaw and Evelyn Greene, the tall, redheaded, and notoriously playful agent 002. Bond sits opposite him with Tanner and Moneypenny on either side of him, while 008, also known as Bailey West, sits next to Tanner. Q can already see the possibility of Bond’s proximity becoming a problem for himself over the course of the evening. Unless, of course, he can make his excuses and leave shortly after he has finished eating. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Shaw leans closer to whisper into his ear, and thus dashes Q’s hopes there and then. How does he even know what Q was thinking about, anyway? He’s hardly a mind-reader, just a double-oh. Bloody spies, indeed. 

“Think about what exactly?” he asks anyway, taking care to keep his voice low so that no one else can hear. 

“Leaving early. Or there will be _consequences_.” 

“Are you threatening your Quartermaster?” Q asks, although he’s well aware that his friendship with Shaw has made sure that Shaw is more than capable of making good on his threats. He definitely does not want that to happen. 

“Threatening? Hardly. Just reminding my friend that I can and will follow through with what I say.” 

Q huffs at that, half amused and half annoyed, but when he turns his head to face the rest of the table he realises that everyone else is staring at them with varying degrees of amusement. _Well this is not good_ , he thinks as he glances at Shaw, who naturally shows no signs of anything as mundane as embarrassment. 

“If you two are quite finished,” Moneypenny says, “we’re about to order and are actually waiting for you.” 

Q’s sure that he’s flushing, but he manages to give his order after Shaw is finished with his without any further delay. He makes sure to covertly jab the man in the side with his too bony elbow (according to Shaw, that is), partly for payback, and partly because he can. Shaw retaliates by messing with his hair, but Q is reasonably sure that no one else pays it any mind. 

Well, until he glances at Bond and happens to catch his eye, that is. There’s a question in there, mixed with something that Q could even mistake with jealousy if he wasn’t quite certain that Bond would never feel that way about him. So he does what he always does and looks away, trying his best to focus on something else. 

He also resolutely ignores Shaw’s, ”I told you so,” whispered into his ear and refuses to dignify it with a response of any kind. Of course, Shaw pays it no mind and starts asking Bond about his return to England. He keeps his arm around Q’s shoulders all the while, but Q makes sure not to lean against him like he normally might have, as he has a feeling that Shaw is mainly doing it to make a point, and Q absolutely refuses to play along with _that_. 

The conversation goes on like that until their food arrives. It’s typical pub fare, fried and greasy, which is what they usually have during their pub nights. Q busies himself with eating his fish and chips and uses it as his excuse to not focus on anything the others are saying around him. Which, as he probably really should have anticipated, comes to bite him in the arse just as he’s about to take a sip of his ginger ale. 

“You’re starting your requalifications tomorrow, aren’t you?” Greene asks Bond. 

Bond nods. “Bright and early. Well in time to steal Q away for the rest of the day.” 

Greene nods solemnly. “I understand. I would totally do the same.” 

“You and every other agent,” Shaw adds with a grin, and even West nods his assent. 

Q hastily swallows his mouthful of ginger ale and briefly debates whether he should just pretend that he’d not heard anything or not. But then he accidentally looks up from his plate and sees Bond’s smirking face and he just _can’t_. 

“Very funny,” he says, somewhat stiffly. “Can we please change the subject, if it’s not too much to ask?” 

“Anything for our dearest Quartermaster,” Bond says, and Q has a strange feeling that there is something else hidden in the words, something he just cannot decipher without some sort of help from Bond; but then those blue eyes release him from their hold when Bond looks away, and the feeling evaporates like fine mist. Q takes a tiny breath and looks down at his plate and what’s left of his fish and chips. With some effort, he continues to eat and manages to finish it all by the time everyone else does. 

“You know,” Moneypenny says once their plates have been cleared out and their drinks refreshed, “it’s quiz night tonight.” 

“We should participate,” Tanner suggests. “For old times’ sake, if nothing else.” 

“Of course we should,” West says, with the other double-ohs nodding and smiling. 

Q blinks when all the eyes are suddenly turned on him again. “Um. Sure?” he ventures, which seems to be the right answer as everyone cheers and begins brainstorming a name for their team. Shaw goes as far as lightly squeezing Q’s hand under the table, which Q interprets as a ’good boy’ of sorts — he’d not run away after his dinner was finished, after all — though of course he knows that his friend has an agenda of his own, he always has. 

Shaw’s much like Bond in that sense. Q shudders to imagine a shared mission between the two of them. He’d surely put R on the comms with them if it ever happened. 

In a surprisingly short amount of time, they’ve managed to agree both on a team name — Quiz Me Baby One More Time, a suggestion by Tanner that immediately garners everyone else’s enthusiastic support — and the person to write down their answers in the booklet. Greene takes care of announcing their team to the quizmaster, seeing as she sits on the end, and that gives them fifteen minutes until the quiz starts. 

Q may or may not spend that time quietly fretting over sliding back into _this_ , whatever it is, with what appears to become regular nights at the pub with Bond as a part of their group again, and knowing that it will not bode well for his peace of mind. 

But as long as no-one else can tell what he’s thinking, he reckons he’ll be okay, at least until he can escape the group and go back to his flat and his kitties and his computers and his everything that _isn’t_ Bond or Six or double-oh related. 

Of course, he totally forgets that he’s literally surrounded by spies and double-oh agents who keep _looking_ at him, even when they’re talking about the parts of Bond’s mission that can be mentioned at a public space like this. 

Q swallows and tries his best to participate in the conversation, but he’s (not so) secretly relieved when the quizmaster declares that the quiz is about to begin. 

They don’t end up winning, though it’s a rather close call, but they do have a lot of fun with playfully arguing about the right answers and sharing little stories prompted by those answers. Q finds that he genuinely enjoys it all, even with his annoyingly reawakened little crush on Bond rearing its ugly head again. He really ought to chop that clean off, of that he is well aware, and he swears that he will. In time. 

Afterwards, Q excuses himself for a quick visit to the restroom. When he returns, both Bond and Greene have disappeared from the table. He soon locates Greene at the far corner, talking to (and most probably flirting with) a good-looking brown-haired man wearing a pair of rather flattering jeans. _Good for her_ , he thinks absently as he brings his focus back to what is happening around himself. 

It turns out that Tanner has managed to talk the others into a friendly competition of darts. He asks if Q wants to join them, but Q politely declines and says that he’ll be perfectly content to watch them and perhaps get himself another drink while he’s at it. The others, already on the tipsy side, accept his refusal with good grace and leave him to it. 

Q has barely spent a minute alone when suddenly there’s a warm presence at his side and a familiar scent filling his nostrils. Q looks up from his mobile (he’d been checking in on Thor and Loki, who are curled up around each other on the sofa and purring loud enough for Q to hear it even through the app he’s using) and sees Bond. Who is definitely closer to him than he’s been for over a year, and Q really has no idea how to deal with such closeness from Bond of all people. 

“Hello again,” Bond says, and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips. Q can feel Bond’s thigh and arm flush against his own, and the warmth of Bond’s body so near his is overwhelming. 

“Um,” he says and tries his very best to _not_ sound as breathless as he feels. “Hello?” 

“I had almost forgotten just how adorable you can be,” Bond says, voice low and measured, and Q can feel his eyes widen slightly because that was so not what he expected to hear. At all. 

“Well, almost. But the real thing is always so much better than memories, don’t you agree?” 

Q clears his throat and decides to put a stop to it, whatever the hell _it_ is. Probably just Bond having drunk a bit too much and feeling maudlin. It is, after all, his first night out with them in over a year. 

“I found your little surprise in my office,” he says in an effort to change the subject to a safer one, and because he genuinely wants to thank Bond. It makes him feel all warm inside to know that Bond has been thinking of him enough while being away to go and buy him something. Or several somethings, as is the case, for Bond’s package had, in fact, contained several items apparently purchased at various times and from various places. 

Some of them were more useful — like the chopsticks engraved with a stylistic Q from Japan and the chullo, an Andean style hat with earflaps, made of alpaca wool from Peru — and some less so — like the book called Le livre secret de Chats enchantés by Séverine Pineaux that Bond had acquired from France and that Q finds absolutely adorable — while others had been chosen with his kitties in mind, such as the cute catnip-scented toy that’s shaped like an octopus. All items had also included clearly dated handwritten notes from Bond detailing the reasons why he’d chosen that particular item for him. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

Bond’s smile widens at those words. “It was my pleasure,” he tells Q, and Q can tell that he means it. 

“Either way, it was a lovely surprise, and I’ve no idea what I did to deserve it,” Q continues sincerely. 

“You were you,” Bond replies simply, and the way he looks at Q is enough to cause Q to turn his head away and desperately hope that he’s not blushing, because Bond does not mean it like _that_ and anything else is merely Q’s imagination. His gaze finds the table and he notices the two glasses sitting there before them, Bond’s familiar choice of whisky next to the cider Q favours. 

Bond has bought him a drink. 

Q stares at the glass for a few seconds before reaching out for it and taking a sip to cover his sudden quietness. He thanks Bond with a nod and a tiny smile, afterwards, and is then treated to a sight of Bond taking a leisurely drink of his whisky, looking into the amber liquid with something akin to wistfulness.

“I really did miss you while I was gone,” Bond suddenly says. “I wished for you to be my contact from Six, but I was told that you were in the field with another agent, and so I got stuck with R instead. Not that there’s anything wrong with her, she’s a good handler, but do I suspect she’s rather sick of listening to me constantly ask about you.”

Q frowns lightly. So that was why R had been giving him those looks of hers from time to time — conspicuously, those times had coincided with her confidential mission, now that he thinks about it — and acting like she knew something that he didn’t and was feeling smug about it, too. That sneak!

“She never told you where I was or what I was doing, did she?” Bond continues, although he looks like he already knows the answer. 

Q still gives it to him out loud. “No, never. I honestly thought that you’d left, after what happened. Or retired.” 

“Did you really think that I’d leave you just like that?” Bond asks, and there’s something in his voice that makes Q’s lungs go tight.

“You did come to ask for the car,” Q reminds Bond, though not unkindly. “And you had the perfect companion.” 

Now it’s Bond’s time to frown. “You mean Madeleine? Q, she was only with me until it became safe for her to return to her old life. She never wanted to be a part of this kind of life, and she never hid that from me either. She was helpful with some parts of my mission, yes, but I’d promised to keep her safe until she no longer needed my assistance, and that’s what I did. The last I heard, she’s back at the clinic and dating a beautiful redhead who just happens to be a fellow doctor.” 

“Oh,” Q says, and then has no idea how to continue. That had not been what he’d expected to hear at all, and he’s finding it quite hard to wrap his mind around the fact that Bond isn’t actually in love with Swann. He’d been so sure of that being the case, enough so that he had never even suspected that he could be wrong. Perhaps he should have assumed less and listened to his friends more. 

Still, Bond not being in a relationship with her doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s been alone the whole year. Quite the opposite, actually, as it means that he’s had multiple chances to be with multiple other people, which honestly sounds like a very Bond thing to do. More so than staying on his own, the way Q himself has done, waiting for someone special. 

“Q…” Bond says, very softly. But whatever else he’s about to say gets interrupted by the loud laughter coming from the table full of rowdy young men and women nearby, and Q takes it as his chance to take a sip of his cider. And then another, if only to give his hands something to do. 

Bond takes note of it, and instead of continuing on whatever it was that he was about to say, he does the same and finishes his whisky in two large gulps. 

Q deliberately does not look at him or the enticing way his throat moves when he swallows. He doesn’t, except that maybe he peeks just a little bit from the corner of his eye. It’s not like anyone can tell even if he does, right? 

Bond gets up to go and get a new drink, and he asks if Q wants one as well. Q nods and watches him go to the bar. A part of him wants to get up and go home to digest everything he’s just learnt, but another, larger part feels that leaving now would be unfair for everyone involved. So he stays and talks with Bond about random topics while sipping his (first old then new) drink, and suffers through the amused looks Shaw gives him when the others return to them, until it’s finally time to call it a night. 

Q has said his goodbyes to everyone else still present and is about to start walking towards the closest Tube station like he has done many a time after their pub nights when both Shaw and Bond stop him. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Q?” Shaw asks with a raised brow. 

“Home, obviously,” Q replies. Where else would he be going?

“Well, you can’t just wander off like that by yourself at this time of the night,” Bond says, and has the gall to sound disapproving. “At least let one of us drive you home.” 

Q looks from Bond to Shaw and back and realises that neither of them is willing to budge on this, which is not exactly new—but having them both be there at the same time with the same offer is. So he sighs softly and nods. “Fine. You’re being ridiculous as always, you do realise that, yes? But if it makes you feel better, then by all means, drive me home.” 

“Great,” Shaw says cheerfully. “So which of us shall be the one to do the honours?” 

Choosing the one to do it proves to be just a bit of a dilemma for Q, however. On one hand there’s Shaw, a trusted friend who’s done it countless times during the past year and who Q knows is sincerely concerned about getting him home without anything happening to him. On the other, there’s Bond, who _has_ given him a lift home plenty of times before his absence, but with whom Q isn’t quite sure where he currently stands. 

Though perhaps Bond offering here is a way for him to show that he still considers Q a friend, especially coupled with all the lovely, thoughtful gifts that he’d just received from the man. And perhaps he ought to choose Bond to assure him that the feeling is mutual. 

“Well,” Q starts, automatically glancing at Shaw. “I think my flat is closer to Bond’s than yours.” 

Shaw nods. “Fair point. I shall concede defeat and leave you to his care.” He then winks at Q and turns to Bond. “Drive safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

And that’s how Q ends up sitting next to Bond in the man’s car while Bond drives him home and gives him puzzling looks all the while. Q just knows that he’ll be mulling them over for a long while before getting any sort of sleep that night, but he’s long since resigned to his fate, what with him being the Quartermaster who has a crush on one of his agents and all. 

There’s also the fact that while Bond may not be together with Dr Swann, a year is a long time to be gone, especially without a word. Furthermore, whether Bond has been with other people or not is less of a problem than Q simply not knowing how to feel about it all. 

If nothing else, he needs time to think, to absorb all this new information he’s just received. Besides, Bond has only implied wanting to be his friend again; he could just as well have the hots for Moneypenny, or even a desire to be on his own, free to sleep with whomever he pleases, and with no need for anything as complex as a relationship. 

And even if Bond _was_ looking for a relationship, who’s to say it would be Q who he’d be looking at? 


	2. So what did you two talk about last night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the rest of this fic, I hope that you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 😊

The next morning finds Q in his office doing paperwork with a still steaming cup of Earl Grey near his laptop, when there’s a familiar knock on his door. He looks up at the door, expectant, and is not the slightest bit surprised when it opens and in walks Shaw. 

“Good morning, crumpet! How are you today? Did you get enough sleep last night?”

“You really ought to stop calling me that, you know,” Q complains, though he’s only half serious. Shaw’s been using it ever since their shared mission, and Q has more or less gotten used to it by now. 

“Why? Because Bond’s back, and we wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression?” Shaw asks with a smile that he _knows_ makes Q feel less than charitable towards him. 

Q rolls his eyes. “Because you’re perfectly aware of how I feel about you using it. Unless, of course, your famed double-oh senses are not quite working as well as they used to, anymore.” 

“Hey now,” Shaw frowns lightly, though Q can tell he’s about as serious as Q himself. “No need to get personal like that.” 

“And why are you here, again, 005? I don’t remember seeing your name anywhere near the mission list. Aren’t you still on medical leave for at least a week and a half?” Q asks and stares at Shaw pointedly. 

“I’m bored,” Shaw grumbles. “I need something to do.” 

“And you thought that bothering your Quartermaster would do the trick? Goodness, Shaw, if you don’t watch it you’ll soon become as bad as 007.” 

“Would that be so bad? Maybe then he’d have actual competition for his position as your favourite agent,” Shaw points out, making Q flush ever so slightly.

“He’s hardly my favourite,” he denies firmly. “He rarely brings anything back from his missions, he has a habit of disappearing when he so wishes, he hates doing paperwork, and he sleeps with anything that moves.” 

Shaw shakes his head sadly. “Deny it all you want, Q, but you’re not fooling anyone who has eyes. Or ears. Or any other senses, for that matter.”

Q frowns and resolutely looks back at his laptop. Sometimes, ignoring Shaw will at least make him change the subject, if not leave the room.

“So what did you two talk about last night? When we were playing darts?” 

Q sighs. So much for Shaw just letting it go. “Nothing, really. Bond was just telling me more about his mission.” 

“And…?” Shaw looks at him expectantly, and Q gives up. 

“Fine,” he says, and goes on to summarise the meaningful parts of their conversation in a couple of sentences that are short and to the point. He mentions nothing of his own thoughts and feelings, but he’s quite certain that Shaw can read between the lines either way. 

“Ah, I see,” Shaw says, once Q has finished, and looks at him with a mix of amusement and… is that pity? Annoyance? Frustration? Q simply cannot tell, which is vexing in itself. 

“Well, I bloody well don’t,” he says, “so are you going to explain it to me or not?”

“Not,” Shaw replies. “Not to worry though, you’ll figure it out eventually.” 

Q gives Shaw the evil eye, but try as he might, that is all that he can get out of the man. The double-ohs are a stubborn lot, as Q is well aware, and so eventually he does need to concede defeat.

“Well, at least you now know that he’s unattached,” Shaw says brightly. “I was serious about my offer yesterday, too. Though I suppose the way we acted last night may have already given him cause to feel jealous.” He looks entirely too pleased about it, as well, which makes Q want to groan. 

“Thank you for your most generous offer, but it won’t be needed. Now, you said that you were bored, earlier. I may have a solution to that particular predicament, at least for today.” 

Shaw perks up. “Are there explosions involved?”

“There could be,” Q says. “Anderson has been working on a nitrogen-based explosives delivery system and he could use an agent to test it and see if there are any adjustments to make that would help out in the field.” 

“That sounds perfect,” Shaw says, smiling. 

“I know.” Q gets up and leads Shaw out of his office and straight to Anderson, who is indeed happy to take Shaw off of Q’s hands. Anderson also assures Q that 005 will be kept entertained well into the afternoon, and that any data gathered will find its way to Q afterwards. 

Q nods. “Well then, off you go, you two. And do be productive.” 

“Have a lovely day, crumpet. I might come and steal you away for lunch later. Unless, of course, a certain double-oh-someone beats me to it.” 

With those parting words, Shaw grins and follows Anderson out of the main room. Q rolls his eyes and returns to his office; at least his minions have long since gotten used to the way Shaw acts. (Which is lucky for him, because if Q needed to worry about his staff getting into a strop over a pet name on top of everything else, there would certainly be unpleasant consequences. And unlike Shaw, Q would have no trouble at all ensuring that those consequences were felt.) 

*

Bond finds Q leaving one of the labs around lunch time. 

Well, if by finding one means that Bond hides behind the door in order to ambush Q and scare the living daylights out of him. Q’s sure he jumped at least a foot in the air, but he did not scream. Nope, certainly not, no matter what Bond might claim. Video or it didn’t happen, and as there is no such video, then clearly it didn’t; and if Bond says that it did then he’s obviously a lying liar who lies. 

So there. 

“Bloody hell, Bond!” Q exclaims. 

“Yes, Q?” Bond says, looking amused. Q resents him just a bit for that. 

“Did you have something you needed to talk to me about, or are you just enjoying startling me?” 

“I did, actually,” Bond replies. “The startling was just a perk.” 

“Then do spit it out, I don’t have all day.” 

“I came here to take you to lunch. My treat,” Bond says, just like that. Like Q’d simply ignore any other commitments he might already have and follow Bond, no questions asked. The man has nerve, Q gives him that. 

“I might have other plans,” he points out. “Or simply not have time for lunch at all.” 

“Well, do you?” Bond asks. 

“...No. But I might have had,” Q replies. 

“I sincerely doubt that you would’ve, seeing as you’re the one to oversee my firearms recertification after lunch,” Bond says. “You hadn’t forgotten about that, had you?” 

Q has to grudgingly admit — though only to himself — that for a moment there, he had. “Of course not,” he says out loud, however, because he’s not quite crazy enough to confess something like that to Bond. 

“Then shall we?” Bond continues smoothly, and Q sighs but nods. He allows Bond to lead him out of the labs and take him to a cosy little Greek restaurant not too far away, very much aware of the gentle touch of the man’s hand on the small of his back as they walk.

*

In the following days, things carry on in the same vein. Bond continues to surprise Q all over Q Branch, appearing and disappearing like a ghost and managing to startle him every single time. Q cannot help feeling half impressed, even if the other half might be closer to exasperation. 

Bond has also apparently taken it upon himself to keep his Quartermaster fed and watered throughout the days. He takes Q out to lunch (every now and then accompanied by Shaw) or brings him something nice if he’s too busy to leave Six, and perfectly brewed cups of tea keep appearing like magic just when Q most needs one. 

Q talks about it with Shaw (who also seems to spend most of his time in Q Branch) once or twice when they’re safely in his office and no one else can hear them — and most importantly, when Bond is nowhere near. Shaw keeps smiling at him like he knows something that Q doesn’t, and most of what he says sound cryptic and annoying and Q _really_ doesn’t have time for parsing out his friend’s silly quips when he has agents out on missions and a branch to run. 

So after the second time, Q tries his best to not mention Bond at all when Shaw is there. 

He doesn’t really get a clear reading on how Bond and Shaw act when they’re near each other, either. On one hand, they’re both double-ohs, which lends a certain camaraderie between the two of them; and they know how to work together perfectly, as evidenced by the way they always manage to talk Q into leaving Six with them. On the other hand, there are moments when Q could swear that they are rivals about to prove themselves better than the other (Q supposes it’s about getting the better and nicer equipment, and has half a mind to tell them that there’s nothing to be competitive about, he’ll make sure that they both get the best of what Q Branch has to offer), and others when he can _tell_ that they know something Q doesn’t and are amused and dissatisfied about it in turns. 

It doesn’t help that whenever Shaw calls him ’crumpet’ or touches him the way he’s gotten used to during the year Bond was away (and that’s most of the time — Q has a feeling that Shaw does it at least partly to get a reaction out of him or Bond or them both), Bond gets this look that Q has never seen on his face before, and he has no idea what it means. Shaw, the bastard that he is, just laughs and refuses to break his silence. 

If it’s something like Bond feeling jealous that Q has a dear friend in another agent as well, or that Bond fears losing his status as Q’s favourite double-oh to Shaw after his long mission with no communication between them, Q wishes that he’d just talk to him about it. Then he could assure Bond that as for losing Q’s affection and good opinion, he has nothing to worry about. 

But when he says as much to Shaw and asks him to perhaps talk to Bond about it, all the man does is sigh and tell him that for a genius, he can be unusually obtuse.

So it’s no wonder that Q is starting to feel increasingly confused about the whole situation. He just hopes that it’ll get better when Shaw’s medical leave ends and Bond has finished his requalifications so they can both be sent out for missions again. 

Yes, perhaps it's merely the side effect of needing to stay grounded in London and being bored out of their minds, Q thinks idly as he steps into his office. 

Suddenly there are strong arms wrapping around his waist, and Q gasps and freezes immediately. He then realises just whose arms they are, and the speed with which he relaxes against the man holding him would be ridiculous if Q allowed himself to think about it at all. Instead, he takes a deep breath and waits for the arms to release him. 

When that doesn’t happen, though, Q blinks. “Bond?” he ventures, hesitant. “What are you doing?” 

“Holding you,” Bond replies, as if it explains everything. 

“Yes, but why?” 

“Because I’m kidnapping you for the evening.”

“You’re what now?” Q asks, not sure he heard it right. 

“Kidnapping you. So will you come quietly or will I need to use force?” Bond continues, his voice playful. 

Q cranes his neck so that he can sort of look Bond in the eye. “I’m not sure you're making any sense here. Did you touch something you really shouldn’t have, perhaps?” After all, there are half-finished projects of all sorts all over his branch, and many of them are dangerous in hands that don’t know how to use them. Or when touched without appropriate protective gear. 

“If this is your way of saying that I shouldn’t be touching you…” Bond says, and if Q’s not mistaken he’s just tightened his hold. Though right after, the hold slackens again, enough so that Q could easily push himself off of Bond. 

Baffled, Q makes no move to pull away. (He’d be lying if he claimed to dislike being held by Bond. Or that he doesn’t have several fantasies that start just like this. Not that he’d ever tell anyone _that_.) Instead, he leans more fully against Bond as he contemplates his situation. Bond seems to enjoy holding him right now, and it isn’t like it’s a hardship for him, either, so Q feels justified in taking his time. 

“This is a highly unusual situation for me,” he eventually confesses. 

“Shaw doesn’t hold you like this, then?” Bond asks, very close to Q’s ear. Q cannot stop the shiver that causes, and he wonders whether Bond can feel it too. Hopefully not. 

“No. Well, not after we finished our shared mission, that is,” he replies slowly. “We were pretending to be involved then, so it was expected of us to act the part.” 

“Have you ever needed to do that with anyone else?” Bond asks next. 

Q shakes his head. “No, just with him. And you, before you left.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bond says, and Q can tell that he means it from the way his voice gets softer and lower. He’s not sure if it’s deliberate, however, but it makes him smile either way. 

“This kidnapping of yours,” Q says after a moment of contemplation. “What exactly does it consist of?”

Bond grins (Q can tell even without seeing his face) and his hold of him tightens again. “Well, you’ll find that I’m a very reasonable kidnapper and am, in fact, open to suggestions. So if you need to stop by your flat to feed your cats or if you have an errand to run, or even a preference towards a certain restaurant, I’m all ears.”

Q cannot resist the perfect opening Bond has just given to him. “That you certainly are,” he says teasingly. “Lucky for you I like your ears.” 

Bond retaliates by tightening his hold and nuzzling Q’s neck, which makes Q squirm and gasp. But before he has time to react in any other way, there’s a knock on his office door. Bond releases him, and Q feels immediately disappointed. He glances at Bond, and the man’s wink, followed by, “I’m still kidnapping you after this,” makes him feel better. 

Q waits long enough that Bond has had time to make his way to the sofa and sit down before he opens the door to R. It’s a routine check-in—only takes a few moments—and Q knows he has no good reason for that brief flare of annoyance he felt about the interruption. She’s only doing her job, after all; how would she have known that Q and Bond were in the middle of something rather promising? 

The second the door is closed and Q’s about to turn around to let Bond know that he’s ready to leave, Bond is right there, gently but insistently pressing Q against it. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Bond murmurs against the side of Q’s neck, and then he presses a soft kiss there. 

“Bond…?” Q breathes, not sure what is happening. Is Bond… kissing him?

Just as suddenly as Bond has pressed him against the door, he retreats and puts a respectable distance between them again. “Are you ready, Q?” he asks, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. 

Q blinks and for a moment there, wonders if he’s imagined it all. “I will be in a minute,” he responds out loud. Then he turns around, makes his way to his desk (taking note of how Bond is now innocently standing next to it), packs his messenger bag, and lets Bond know that he’s done.

Bond smiles and opens the door for him. Q allows him to escort him out of the office and towards the lifts, Bond’s hand by now a familiar weight on the small of his back, and wonders: what exactly do his minions see when they walk past them? 

*

By the time they reach Bond’s Aston Martin Q has done some thinking. There’s no way that Bond’s kiss means what he wants it to mean. Bond had said that he wasn't looking for more relationships right before he left, and having his friendship is enough for Q. 

It has to be. 

So he gets into the car and resolves to enjoy the evening with his friend. 

They both agree that the first stop should be Q’s flat. Not necessarily to feed the cats (because his inventions are more than capable of taking care of that) but to show Thor and Loki some affection if he’s to be gone for the rest of the evening. (Thor, his huge and fluffy Norwegian forest cat, could easily survive the night with his brother as his only company; however, Loki, his beautiful Russian blue, would clearly show his displeasure upon his return should he decide to skip the visit and not come home until late in the evening, something Q knows from experience after several nights spent at the office.)

That, and Bond wants to find out whether the cats still remember him. Q’s sure that they do, but far be it for him not to let Bond see it for himself. 

Q opens the door and gestures for Bond to step in first. The ridiculous man has insisted on carrying his bag and opening car doors for him, among other things, almost like this is a date and not just friends spending the evening together. However, Q prefers to be the one to deal with locking his door due to all the security that he has. Bond is aware of it, of course, after having broken into his flat a couple of times in the past, and he’s more interested in seeing the cats anyway. If Q didn’t know better, he’d think that Bond has missed them. 

Actually, he _does_ know better. And Bond _has_ missed them, at least if one goes by the fact that his souvenirs to Q included a fair few to Thor and Loki, as well. 

Thor, ever the curious kitty, is the first one to come and greet them by the door, meowing loudly enough that Q briefly wonders if his neighbours can hear it too. 

“Hello, my darling,” Q greets Thor with a smile and a kiss on the soft white fur between his ears. Thor purrs and nudges his chin with his cold nose, and Q chuckles. “Where’s your brother? Is he still sleeping?” 

Then he straightens up again and glances at Bond, who has a fond smile on his lips. “Loki’s here somewhere; I’m sure he’ll make an appearance sooner or later. Meanwhile, would you like some tea?” 

“Tea would be lovely,” Bond replies even as he kneels down to accept Thor’s enthusiastic greeting in the form of sniffing at his fingers and rubbing against his thighs. After, Thor practically climbs up to his lap, his sharp nails making tiny pinpricks in the fabric of Bond’s trousers, purring all the while. 

Q smiles at the adorable sight. “See, he certainly remembers you. You can go sit down on the sofa while I make us some tea, it’ll be more comfortable.” 

Bond, with an armful of the fluffy lump that is Q’s darling Thor, simply nods and makes his way to the living room. Q watches them for a moment before turning around and heading for the kitchen. 

Loki finds him in the kitchen when he’s just finished preparing their teas. “Hello, beautiful.” Q smiles at him and scratches him behind his ear. “Did you have a nice nap?” 

Loki makes a cute little trilling sound as a reply and raises his little blue paws, batting them against Q’s leg as he demands to be picked up. Q knows that he can’t carry both Loki and two mugs of tea, but he can never say no to Loki either, so he compromises by picking up Loki and then Bond’s mug of tea with his free hand. He takes the tea to an amused-looking Bond and then returns to get his own mug before finally sitting down next to the man. 

Thor is purring up a storm in Bond’s lap, fully enjoying the petting and the affection Bond is bestowing upon him. Loki, then again, is daintily washing one of his paws while perched atop Q’s thigh, which leaves Q’s hands free for his tea. So he takes full advantage of the fact and sips his Earl Grey with a touch of lemon while watching Bond from the corner of his eye. 

“I’ve really missed these two monsters,” Bond suddenly breaks the silence. 

“I believe they missed you too,” Q says. “Despite that rather disastrous first meeting you three had.” 

Bond groans lightly. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?” 

“No, never,” Q agrees cheerfully. He’d never forget coming home from the grocery store that evening and finding Bond, bleeding and in a stupor from blood loss and codeine abuse on the hall floor with Thor laying on top of him with his full weight, purring and making biscuits on his torn suit jacket, and Loki sitting on top of his head, hissing whenever Bond even twitched. He’s lucky in that Loki’s barely a third of his brother’s body weight because ‘Here lies James Bond, suffocated to death by a cat’ would have made for an amusing epitaph on his headstone for certain. 

After Q had gotten his kitties off of his injured agent, he’d helped Bond to the bathroom to take a look on his wounds. It had turned out that most of the blood wasn’t fresh and had come from the two knife wounds Bond had sustained during his mission, but there had been a couple of scratches that looked suspiciously cat-made. Q had dutifully cleaned those as well after finishing with the knife wounds, but he’d refused to apologise for his kitties when Bond had been the one to startle them by breaking in in the first place. 

Loki had kept his distance the whole time, but Thor had been more than curious about his new human friend and had been more hindering Q’s efforts than helping take Bond’s mind away from the pain. Still, once Q had taken Bond to the guest bedroom for the night (and threatened him with a trip to Medical if he wouldn’t stay still), Thor had been proven to be an excellent bodyguard slash weighted kitty blanket and had kept Bond in bed well into the morning. 

It had taken Loki significantly longer to warm up to Bond — and he’d hissed warningly at Bond whenever the man had gotten too close to Q for his tastes — but eventually he, too, had started to like Bond’s presence in the flat and had come asking for pets and cuddles from him. 

“ _Please_ tell me you’ve deleted the footage, at least,” Bond says, breaking Q out of his memories. 

“Now why would I have done that? When it’s one of my most favourite cat videos.” 

“You are evil, Quartermaster,” Bond complains, but Q can hear it from his voice that he’s nowhere near serious about it. 

“And don’t you ever forget about that!” he grins.

They sip their teas in silence for a few moments, until Loki jumps off of Q’s lap and disappears for a minute. When he reappears, he’s holding a familiar silvery cat toy in his mouth. 

“Is that-” Bond starts, looking half surprised and half touched. 

“The one that you got for them? Yes,” Q finishes for him. “It’s a particular favourite of Loki’s.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bond says. 

“And I’m glad to know that you were thinking about them while you were away.” 

Loki makes his way back to Q’s lap and curls up there, toy and all. He yawns and, holding the octopus-shaped toy between his forepaws, closes his eyes to sleep and purr at Q’s gentle scritches on his cheek. Q thinks that it’s absolutely adorable, and from his body language Bond seems to agree. 

Soon after, Q finishes his tea. He puts the mug down on the coffee table and starts thinking about the rest of the evening. “I assume that you have a reservation to a restaurant, don’t you?” he says, looking at Bond. 

“I do.” Bond nods. “It’s in an hour and a half, so we have plenty of time if you want to refresh or get changed.” 

Q looks down at the cardigan he’s wearing. It’s one of the nicer ones he owns, and he’s wearing a tie as well, but compared to Bond’s designer suit, now adorned with a selection of Thor’s multicoloured hair, he looks awfully underdressed. “I probably should. I look a bit plain wearing these, although to be honest, anyone would next to you.” 

“No, Q, you look beautiful,” Bond says sincerely. “That cardigan is a favourite of mine.” 

“Oh,” Q says, softly, because that’s what one does when one has just been called beautiful by Bond. Or, at least, that’s apparently what _he_ does. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Bond says and looks him in the eye. “And I do mean it, you’re always beautiful to me.” 

And Q thinks that, _oh, perhaps this really_ is _a date_ ; and everything starts to make so much more sense, from the way Bond has been hovering around him ever since he’d returned, never too far from Q Branch, and how he’s been slowly but surely shrinking the distance between the two of them and gently insinuating his presence into all the major parts of Q’s life. 

Subconsciously, he’d perhaps realised it early on — why else would he have acted the way he had, allowing Bond to get as close to him as he’d wanted — but to his conscious mind it does come as a surprise. Yes, despite all the ways Shaw had teased him about it — and he now suddenly gets all of those hints of his, too — and the way he’d seen other people look at him, especially when he’d been anywhere near Bond. 

But he’s never claimed to be clever concerning any of his past — or present — romantic entanglements. 

Q realises that he’s been silent for too long when Bond starts to look the tiniest bit unsure. He frowns lightly, and then looks like he’s made a decision.

“Q,” he says, voice soft, “I was meant to wait until after our dinner, to wine and dine you properly first, to find the perfect moment… but I’m afraid that I cannot wait any longer. Q… there’s a reason why I wanted to take you out tonight.” 

“Bond,” Q says, voice equally soft, “I think I finally get it, this date and everything else you’ve done. And… I like you, James. I really, really do.” 

“Well, that _is_ a relief.” Bond smiles, and he looks more than fond. “This all would’ve been rather awkward, otherwise.” 

Q nods, solemn. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” 

“We certainly wouldn’t,” Bond agrees. He then carefully and slowly leans closer to Q, mindful of the cats on both of their laps, and kisses Q on the lips. It’s awkward with the cats on the way, and it certainly isn’t how Q imagined their first kiss to be (what he had in mind included less cats and more convenient walls to be pushed up against, for one), but he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Besides, there are no rules that any subsequent kisses couldn’t tick those particular boxes, after all. And they do have the rest of the night, and at least however long Bond is still stuck in London. Afterwards, Q and the kitties will be more than happy to entertain Bond for as long as he keeps returning. 


End file.
